


on your knees

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Come Inflation, Dubious Consent, Gangbang, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Inflation, Moresomes, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Sticky Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wet & Messy, crackish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2163219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sentinel sometimes needs to remind Proteus just where he stands, and it'd be in his best interests not to go behind his back in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on your knees

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of cracky WHAT THE FUCK EVER LET'S DO THIS CRAZY ASS SHIT gift fic for my friend Z. It's seriously just... nothing but smut, that's it. Turn your brain off, I guess. Writing gets a bit bleh; it's been a very long time since I've written moresomes, so yeah.
> 
> [Tumblr link](http://captainbaneberry.tumblr.com/post/95171117663/open-up-and-swallow-on-your-knees-4475-words): because a reblog is always appreciated! （●>ω・）ﾉ

It had been a very long, very hard, very frustrating day.

Mostly frustrating. Not that Proteus was one to buckle under pressure. He was a smooth-talker, and a smooth-liar. You don't have the world feeding out of the palm of your hand if you're prone to break under even the slightest of weight. Usually everyday was something new--good or bad--and Proteus was always equipped to deal with it--calmly and with charm. It fooled everyone except for those he allowed to see his true face.

Sentinel had been one of them; one of the very rare few. The newly appointed Prime was good to confide in--not only because he was like-minded to the senator, but in no position to go running his mouth off should he suddenly be struck with an actual conscience. And Sentinel was a very smart mech; he knew damn well that Proteus always had the scales tipped in his favor.

Sentinel accepted that. He liked Proteus, and better yet, he liked his control over the planet. He kept Cybertron in an iron vice, and Sentinel wasn't even sure he'd have the power to ever soften that grip.

Well, until today.

Today, Sentinel felt the burn of knowing he was always number two, despite the position he was in. A figurehead puppetted by a much more sinister force. He never thought of it that way, of course, until the senator decided to interrupt his speech and speak up _for_ him.

It didn't take Sentinel long to figure out this had all been a ploy--perhaps to keep himself on top, show the rest of the senate he was the best at his job; whatever the reason, he had used Sentinel as a pawn.

Oh, Sentinel's reputation wouldn't suffer because of it. And it didn't make the senate think any less of him as a Prime. (Though he knew Proteus wasn't the only politician who saw him as a figure piece, too.) Proteus's little scheme might have even been there to _benefit_ Sentinel, but the matter of which he employed it--interrupting, correcting, and arguing a point in Sentinel's-- _their co-written_ \--speech canceled out any favors the smug bastard might have given him.

Sentinel knew about Nominus. Knew what happened to his predecessor. Knew who was really responsible for his demise.

And, he wondered, did Nominus's downfall start like this? Even more disconcerting: would he end up the same as the former Prime?

All and all, Sentinel did not like it. It didn't help that Proteus was rushed into a council meeting across Cybertron before the Prime could pull him aside and demand what the Hell he thought he was doing. As much as he wanted to use his power to cancel Proteus's trip, it did not look good, politically speaking. Especially over something as "petty as this"--Proteus's words; that's what he would say, Sentinel knew, and that only pissed him off more.

But, at least Proteus knew his Chosen One was upset, too.

And here Sentinel thought he couldn't get any angrier than he already was over the entire debacle.

Hours passed, both senator and Prime busying themselves with work. Sentinel held a meeting with Prowl; the mech had was business-minded with a hard spark. He knew sometimes you had to play dirty to keep things in order. Sentinel respected that--and he didn't feel inferior to the officer. Prowl didn't put words in his mouth, rarely argued, did as he was told.

Unlike _certain other_ underlings.

At the end of the day, Sentinel waited in his office, as usual. And, as usual, he received a ping.

It was Proteus.

A second later, the doors unlocked, and the senator stepped into the room. He lacked that usual playful facade, and looked more annoyed. "So, this is how you thank me?" he said, snootily. "Acting like a bratty protoform giving me the cold spark and ignoring me all day?"

Sentinel was quiet a moment. "I've been busy, too, Proteus," he stated. "After all, I am the Prime."

The doors shut. Proteus folded his arms, said, "I would know, since I gave you that title."

Sentinel kept his back to the senator, rapping his fingers against a screen.

"Well?"

"You know, before I took on the mantle of Prime," Sentinel mused, sitting back, "I did a lot of hunting. Various planets, from our home galaxy to a few beyond; I collected quite the bounty. But I found one of the most difficult of preys was a rather small animal called a turbo-weasel."

Proteus cocked an optic ridge. "What?"

"They're small, but fast. Cunning, too. They were hard to catch, even harder to kill," Sentinel continued. He invented. "But when you finally get your hands on one after a very frustrating chase..." He trailed off, turning his seat around; the maskplates retracted, revealing his unimpressed frown. "It felt so very good skinning them alive."

Proteus stared a moment, but... He sneered. "Are you calling me a weasel, Sentinel?" he snorted. "How very tacky. And uncreative, if I might--"

Except the senator didn't get to finish. Because moments ago there was ten feet between the two politicians then none and a fist slammed into his jaw. Proteus went down easily; smarter than Sentinel, yes, but definitely not nearly as strong. Proteus stumbled, rolling along the ground a moment before hitting the wall, head bouncing off its hard surface.

The senator saw only darkness before his optics flickered weakly back online. He felt something wet drip down his face; energon gushed from the gash across his nose, nicking a corner of his mouth. Proteus looked up, but the world was a spinning blur. Except for a flash of gold.

"You--"

Proteus growled as he was yanked off the ground, feet dangling in the air. Both hands grabbed at the one wrapped tight around his neck. He grit his teeth, tasting bitter energon leak into his mouth.

"What--what are--" Proteus snarled, fingers digging into the large hand.

"You embarrassed me today, Proteus," Sentinel stated, calmly, voice cold but level. He ignored the energon trickling down his hand clasped around the senator's throat, holding him face to face.

"Put me--" Proteus coughed, pressure pinching vital fuel pumps along his throat. "Put me--down!"

Proteus grunted as he was jerked an inch closer; he could feel Sentinel's words hot on his bleeding face. "You think you have all the power, but I don't appreciate you dangling it above my head like some sort of carrot." He snorted. "I know all your dirty little secrets, Proteus. And as a Prime, my word trumps yours. Especially when you and I _both_ know there are people here-- _powerful people_ \--who are just itching to take you out. Expose you for the rotten-sparked fraud and murderer that you are."

Proteus invented with a haggard growl. But that expression of pain and anger quickly turned to mild amusement. "You really think--so?" He swallowed. "I put you--here. I can--take you back-- _down_."

Even bleeding and at the mercy of a mech twice his size and twice his superior, even speaking in broken words lathered with energon, Proteus was frightening. His grin split his split face. "You--need me. As much--need you. But don't--forget. Nominus. _Darling_."

Sentinel felt that heat rise in his spark. His fingers tightened until something snapped, and the senator gave a pained whine. A second later, he let him go, Proteus crumpling to the floor, hacking and rubbing his nearly crushed throat.

"That may be."

Proteus looked up just as Sentinel grabbed him by the chevron, yanking the helpless senator over to his desk. He sat in his chair, looking just like a regal Prime should, before pulling Proteus between his legs.

"But not tonight."

Proteus's optics snapped open, any protests muffled as Sentinel thrust his pressurized cord right down the senator's throat. All the way to the hilt; he choked, gasping and whimpering as Sentinel held his head in place. "Come now," he taunted, though there was no amusement in his voice, "we both know how good you are at this. You're quick on your feet; you have to be. So, _adjust_."

Proteus allowed his head to be guided for the first few pumps. Then, he fell into rhythm--so natural, like a snake shedding its skin. He braced his hands to Sentinel's thighs, shut his optics, and started sucking. A slow, drawn out pace, tongue teasing the nodes along the bottom of his cord. Sentinel grunted, fingers twitching and curling at his armrest.

Proteus had made a fine recovery. But Sentinel didn't expect any less. Proteus picked up the pace, once again taking the cord deep into his throat--this time with ease. His lips pulled, sucked back and forth around its girth, jaw aching from the earlier punch. The bleeding from his nose had stopped, at least, starting to dry in splotches on his wounded face.

And, as usual, Proteus started groaning. "Nnyes," Sentinel growled, once again gripping the back of the senator's head. Those lovely, delicious noises always sent vibrations through his cord, tickling at his hips. "Louder," he growled, and shoved Proteus's head forward in mid-suck, " _louder_."

It was a delightful moan that sounded so wonderfully pathetic and weak. The weight of the world on his back did not break him; but this-- _this_ \--always had Proteus shaking and whimpering.

Sentinel wasn't sure if he liked Proteus the best when he was falling apart at the seams and under his limited mercy.

Sentinel shoved Proteus's head back, the senator releasing his cord with a small gasp. Holding him in place, Sentinel pumped himself once with his free hand, just enough to reach overload. Proteus instinctively closed his optics as his face was coated in the thick fluid, now masking the dried energon around his nose and mouth.

For a moment, they said nothing--did nothing. Panted and cooled themselves down. Sentinel watched with pride as the transfluid dripped from Proteus's face, into his open, panting mouth. The senator was shaking, just enough for his armor to rattle minutely. Sentinel cast his gaze down, leering when he looked between the smaller mech's legs.

"Always so sufficient," Sentinel teased. Lubricant seeped from the corners of Proteus's closed panel, cutting down his legs and dripping from his thighs.

"P-Please," Proteus croaked, swallowing bitter fluid, "p-pl--"

"Of course." Sentinel let Proteus's head go. The senator started to gather off his knees before a hand on his helm forcefully pulled him up. Sentinel turned Proteus around in his lap, the shivering mech leaning against his chest. "But not by me."

Proteus was confused, but only for a moment. The side door to Sentinel's office slid open, and four guards entered the room. They stood in a straight line before their Prime, seemingly unfazed by the great Senator Proteus covered in transfluid and quivering in Sentinel's lap.

"I thought you might like a change for once," Sentinel purred. Proteus squeaked when the Prime took his thighs, forcing his legs wide apart. "Open."

Proteus quickly obeyed, half-aware he was doing so; his pelvic armor shifting to expose himself to their audience.

"I've chosen you four because you are the highest in rank and skill in my command force," Sentinel explained, tone professional. "Thus, I felt you should be rewarded."

Sentinel nudged Proteus down his lap, giving him a wiggle, like showing off a damn piece of meat to a group of starving dogs. He bowed his head, purring against Proteus's audiol: "I think you'll find he's a wonderful gift." He slid one finger down a slick thigh, wiping away a line of lubricant.

The guards seemed equally excited. Their optics glowed, each smiling wickedly.

"Here's your feast," Sentinel said, tossing Proteus onto the floor.

Proteus groaned, weakly crawling onto hands and knees. Fingers suddenly slipped beneath his chin, yanking his head upright, and for the second time tonight, he had a cord suddenly shoved damn near down his throat. A second pair of hands took him by the thighs, and Proteus keened around the unit in his mouth as one of the guards thrust themselves inside him. Fortunately his port was very welcome and quite anticipating of this, even if it _was_ the wrong cord.

The two remaining guards stood at each of the senator's sides, their cords out and pressurized. Proteus's weak optics flicked to Sentinel, remaining seated and watching the show with a blank expression on his face. Proteus took a moment to catch up; no longer clumsily sucking on the cord pumping in his mouth, he took each of the units beside him in his hands and pumped them swiftly in his fingers. The groans they made sent Proteus pushing back against the cord slamming into his port.

Proteus swayed to the rhythm of both the cord in his mouth and channel, his hands still furiously jerking the two guards off. A second later, the guard behind him pulled free, instead spilling his transfluid along the senator's back. Proteus, however, continued with his work; he switched out one cord in his hand with his mouth. The guard latched onto his chevron, slapping his hips against the senator's messied face. He drew back a second later, took the former cord back in his mouth. It only took two more pumps before Proteus winced, tasting warm transfluid pouring down the back of his throat.

Proteus swallowed every drop.

The guard stepped back, freeing himself. Proteus took a huge gulp of air, fans whirring. Didn't have much time to relax before another cord was jammed down his throat, this one a bit larger. The unit in his right hand came, spilling hot transfluid on his arm. The new cord in his mouth didn't last much longer, having been one of the two jerked off earlier; Proteus grimaced as he gulped down more transfluid.

With all four overloads complete, Proteus weakly sat back, panting. He looked to Sentinel, but that bored expression remained. Not that it mattered, really; Proteus gasped as he was roughly pulled back by two pairs of hands. Shoved down a little more gently, he cried as he felt the tongue immediately penetrate his still sopping wet port.

The process continued; a hand grabbed him by the chevron, snapped his head aside, and thrust a newly erect cord into his mouth. Proteus automatically took the remaining two in his hands; he whimpered and wriggled down into the guard's face, that tongue lapping and running along the sensitive lining.

Proteus grunted as a second cord was roughly pressed against his cheek, rubbing and stroking. He sat back, took the new one in his mouth; alternated between the two, wincing when they both struggled to push inside his mouth at once. God, and his jaw was still throbbing from the punch earlier; he couldn't focus, one hand still working a unit, thighs clenching around the mech's head currently tongue-fucking his channel.

Wincing, Proteus closed his eyes as the two cords in his face overloaded, covering him with transfluid. His hand weakened around the unit he was pumping, moving sloppily, as his own climax crashed through him. He could feel wetness pool beneath him, against the mech's face. But before he could thoroughly enjoy his overload, he was thrown onto his back. When he next opened his optics, a guard was hoisting his legs up over his shoulders.

Proteus screamed, head rolling back as the cord nearly tore through his port. He struggled to breathe, keep his shaking frame from overheating. A guard grabbed him by the wrists, pinning his hands down above his head. It took Proteus a moment to register another mech sitting on his face now, but he quickly went to work eating the dripping port out. His moans and whimpers from the guard thrusting between his legs vibrated through the mech grinding down into his mouth, riding that tongue.

The senator keened; thick digits wrapped around his unit, heavily stroking it. He closed his legs tighter around the mech thrusting into his port. Tried to focus on his work, but... Well. Sorta hard. The guard riding his face came, lubricant and transfluid pouring down Proteus's throat. The mech climbed off his face, knees buckled and turned to jelly.

The hands around his wrists pulled him up to a sit. Proteus groaned; the mech inside him pulled free, only to sit and thrust him back down in his lap. Proteus squealed, optics squeezing shut; another guard pinned him against the mech's chest, easing down onto the senator's cord. Both gasped in unison; Proteus felt crushed between the two bodies. Being forced up, forced down, bouncing between them.

Proteus twitched; digits took him by the face, jerking his head aside; he opened his mouth to take the cord again, his jaw giving a small, pained sting. It didn't take long for him to finally reach overload; he moaned around the cord in his mouth, leaning in to take it deeper. That was enough for the guard to release, and Proteus found himself struggling to swallow down more of the transfluid.

The guard inside him came first, filling him with the same hot fluid. A moment later, transfluid streaked across his chest as the mech riding his cord finally came.

Proteus ached. His body shook, CPU swimming with fatigue. But they weren't done--not yet--and once again Proteus found himself on hands and knees taking not only one cord, but two. It hurt and he cried, his used port struggling to accommodate both. It wasn't a very comfy fit, but the guards seemed to ignore their own pain to enjoy his. Each unit moved in shallow, calculated thrusts, and Proteus felt his optics fill with coolant.

It burned; everything fucking burned.

When he looked up to Sentinel, the damn Prime was still enjoying the show, not moving a muscle.

Proteus whimpered.

The mechs were young; he figured that the moment he laid eyes on them. They were robust, they were energetic, and above all, they were insatiable. Proteus was thrust into numerous positions--hands and knees, kneeling, on his back, on his stomach; hands forced behind him, hands held above his head, even helped to jerk himself off. His actuators strained as he was twisted about in every conceivable position the hungry guards could put him in.

After twenty minutes of this, Proteus felt his tanks bulge. He'd taken--swallowed--too much transfluid. It was a dull ache, at least, but each time they came inside him, the more it felt like they were about to burst. Not even his own overloads could ease the pain; he could already feel himself being milked dry, and Proteus never thought that would actually ever happen to him in his very long life. Any attempt to release when freed was plugged up again.

The pleasure was melting into something unbearable. He felt too hot, but numb; he was tired, he could barely keep his optics open. His entire body was scraped up, paint torn away, transfluid stains on nearly every damn surface. The pleasure was drained from him now; coolant returned to his optics, and he-- Goddammit, he actually started to cry. He didn't notice, not at first; but it hurt so much, they wouldn't stop, they kept bending and folding him, filling him with their cords, and he could see dermal plating on his abdomen actually start to bulge from his filled, burning tanks.

And it felt _so damn good_.

"Ple--," Proteus's voice was lost, a scratchy noise, and he swallowed. "P-Pl- _lease_..." He screamed as more transfluid forced its way into his tanks. This time, however, he knew he was going to rupture. "Please!" he sobbed, loudly, tears cutting through the energon and transfluid on his face, "Please p-please please s-stop p-please! I c-can't--"

Sentinel nodded at one of the guards, who promptly took Proteus by the chin, squeezed it tight, and slammed his cord into his mouth. When he overloaded, Proteus--he couldn't swallow. His tanks couldn't handle anymore. He choked on the transfluid as ribbons of it gushed from the corners of his mouth; when the guard pulled himself out, Proteus painfully fell forward and vomited. Transfluid spilled free into a large puddle, though it wasn't enough to relax his still stuffed tanks.

Proteus heaved, his engine making a terrible sound as he tried to calm his overworked system. He attempted to push himself upright, but his actuators gave out; Proteus grunted as he slipped on his elbows in the transfluid beneath him.

"Sen... Sentinel..." Proteus croaked. He slowly looked up at the seated Prime, drool and transfluid dripping from his lips and face. "P-Please..."

Sentinel didn't respond. He looked from the senator to the four guards, waiting for their orders. He raised a hand, and a moment later, the group shuffled out of the room, door shutting quietly behind them.

Proteus laid in the transfluid-coated ground, clutching his abdomen. He hissed between clenched teeth, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "I-It... hurts..." He carefully rolled onto his side, thighs twitching and legs unable to stay completely closed.

Sentinel, however, remained as silent and still as he was since the beginning. He leaned back in his chair, bridging his hands in his lap.

Proteus stared up at him with those pleading, pitiful blue optics, still taking huge gulps of air. He realized... Proteus whimpered, giving himself a moment. Waited until the pain temporarily subsided to hoist himself up on hands and knees. It was... not easy; it took at least ten minutes for Proteus to move properly. He nearly slipped twice as he crawled across the drenched floor, pausing every other minute to grimace and hold his stomach, malleable plating stressed into a bulge.

Proteus could barely speak, the words trapped in his throat. Finally, he found himself at Sentinel's feet. "P-Please..." he whispered, giving another full body shudder. He weakly grabbed at the Prime's legs; his entire torso rattled as he used the armor to pull himself up onto his knees. He opened his optics, looked up into Sentinel's downcast, stony glower.

"P-Please..." Proteus leaned in, brushing his nose against Sentinel's panel. "S... Sen..." He lapped his tongue along the edges, attempting to coax the panel open. Repeatedly dragged his tongue in heavy, forced strokes over its curved surface.

Sentinel, quiet, composed, let his plating shuffle and tuck back, cord pressurizing. The corner of Proteus's soggy smile twitched; it felt like a little victory. He cupped the side of the cord, placing kisses to the head. That, at least, got a small reaction from the Prime.

"Please..." Proteus wrapped his lips around the head before slowly taking it in his mouth. It hurt, and his tubing had gone tight and dry, but he was determined. He sucked once, twice, before looking up at his superior's face with those kicked puppy dog eyes.

Proteus gasped. Sentinel ripped his mouth from his cord, lifting the senator up by his dented chevron. Proteus did not fight--even if he wanted to, it would have been futile. He felt limp in the Prime's hand, lips parted, cycling out hot air, body sagging.

"Apology accepted."

Proteus shrieked, back hitting the ground. His tanks lurched; he could already feel a small tear forming. But then Sentinel was out of his chair, finally, taking one filthy thigh and pushing his leg open.

"They did quite a number on you, didn't they?" Sentinel teased, voice hard. He thrust two large fingers into the senator's port.

Proteus threw his head back with a screech.

"They split you wide open, too." Sentinel dug his fingers in deeper, hooking them into the wet lining. Proteus sobbed, loudly, though his body pushed instinctively down into those large digits.

"Ah. Here we are."

Sentinel smirked, fingering deep inside Proteus's port. He didn't even notice it at first, but suddenly something... clicked, loosened, and Proteus started hyperventilating as his tanks started to drain. However, Sentinel's large fingers kept it from flowing freely.

Sentinel showed the small plug to Proteus. "You probably didn't even notice when they put it in you," he said. Proteus scowled. "But, here." A third finger entered the senator's entrance; he wailed, transfluid spraying from free space between and around those probing digits. "Let's empty those sore, bloated tanks."

"S-Sentinel...!" Proteus blubbered, undulating and rolling into those fingers, all the while small rivets of transfluid continuing to leak free. "Ah--hnn! Please!"

Sentinel met Proteus's sad face. He tenderly wiped the tears from his optics, earning a whimper. With a smile, Sentinel withdrew his hand, pressed it hard against Proteus's distended abdomen; he yanked his fingers out, and Proteus howled as the transfluid finally sprung free in thick, gushing torrents. His scream died down, and the senator simply laid there, body jerking, twitching every few seconds as the transfluid continued draining.

It lasted an entire minute, and Proteus suddenly felt very... hollow.

Sentinel studied Proteus's blank expression; he took him by the chin, turning his head to meet his gaze. "What do you want, now, senator?" he asked, cocking an optic ridge.

Proteus shuttered his optics. One shaky hand reached over, smearing transfluid down Sentinel's thigh.

That was answer enough.

Sentinel chuckled, shaking his head. He lifted Proteus into his arms, carrying him back to the chair. Sentinel sat, made himself comfortable, then completely impaled himself inside the senator's used body.

Proteus gasped; he couldn't move. He hung in the Prime's arms, boneless like a ragdoll. He flopped against Sentinel's chest, whimpering with each thrust inside his port. He lolled his head back against Sentinel's shoulder, turning to rest his nose against his throat. The Prime took his wrists, bucking furiously inside Proteus, hitting that sensitive ceiling node with each pump.

Proteus overloaded, but it was a small release. He was completely dry; couldn't even cry anymore. But with a few more thrusts, Sentinel latched onto the pliant body in his lap and came. Proteus winced as his still stretched tanks once more filled with transfluid.

Sentinel sighed, sitting back, taking Proteus with him. He remained firmly sheathed inside the senator. One finger slipped between his unit, up to rub and nudge at the aching ceiling node. Proteus bit his bottom lip, whimper loud in his throat; jolted before once more sinking back down. He panted, harder and harder, as Sentinel continued to simply tease and squeeze the node.

"It's hard to stay mad at you, you know," Sentinel whispered against his throat, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He ripped another dry overload from Proteus. "Let's get you patched up; you need to refuel," he hummed, very carefully gathering back to his feet, keeping his cord rooted inside the senator. He headed for the door, cradling Proteus to his chest.

"Once you're settled, we can start round two."


End file.
